Of Magic
by black-licorice-and-sugar
Summary: UsUk-Alfred, future King of Spades, ventures to the woods surrounding his home to be imprisoned by a faerie, Arthur Kirkland. Each raised to hate the origins of the other, they see they are wrong and are determined to change their world for the better of the two races. Rated M for later chapters and language.
1. Chapter 1

_Bottle green..._

_Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful._

_Fire._

The young prince woke early in the morning in a cold sweat, gasping as though he been holding his breath from the smoke that had filled his dreams for weeks now. It was definitely not a nice thing to have to wake up to.

Prince Alfred ran a hand through his honey blonde hair and took at least the rest of the time it took the sun to rise into the sky and bathe his royal blue chambers in soft light to calm his racing heart. Once he could breathe without shuddering at last night's dream, he rummaged through his bedside table and retrieved his journal and utensil to record his night terror.

_Journal Entry #23_

_Tonight was far more vivid than I thought dreams could be; a young man with emeralds for eyes was set ablaze right before my eyes under the accusation of some crime or other._

_I tried to run to protect him but the faster I ran, the farther he seemed to be. When I reached, the smoke and scent of burning flesh had covered me, suffocating me under its weight. I couldn't breathe._

_-Prince of Spades, Alfred F. Jones_

No need to mention the rest of his dream, before the fire, since he had quite a few entries, in **excruciating **detail, repeating the same events through his dreams. They were always the same, the same boy, same…shameful acts, but only recently did the fire begin to come in.

Skimming over previous entries with ocean blue eyes, a bit of color rose to his handsome face as he red over more sensual, recorded dreams. Those mornings, he'd be flushed and hot and forced to-"SIRE! GET UP! NO TIME WASTING TODAY! YOUR FATHER IS WAITING FOR YOU!"

A bit too forcefully, slamming the book and tucking it away to the farthest corner of his nightstand, Alfred cleared his throat and, hopefully, his slowly growing 'problem.'

"Ah…Yeah! Yao! I'll be up! Tell him to hold his fucking horses for a sec! It ain't gonna kill 'im if I'm a few minutes late." The Prince felt no shame in using his _commoner's _accent and dialect, a trait picked up from his late mother, with the crabby Jack of Spades. And the Jack took pride in being the future King's right-hand man and greatest friend before even being crowned.

To which the Jack responded, "Are you crazy?! Your father would have my head! Hurry it up in there or else I'll send someone in there!" It was an empty threat, since the entire land of Cards was aware of the Prince's preferences of living in some modesty and privacy. And having someone dreas him or telling him how to act, was out of the question. Only his Father succeeded in that area and only when the Prince cared to listen.

"Oh, please do. Perhaps a lovely chamber maid without a corset or stockings?" If that were honestly Alfred's taste in sexual orientation, the Jack would have done it, no questions asked, but all he got was a small chuckle and a weak knock on the yew wood door.

"Just hurry up, Alfred. You know how he gets…." With that, and added angry grumbling in the old man's Oriental language, Yao stalked off, heeled boots clicking and echoing down the hallways until they faded away.

"Better than you do, I'm sure…."

-**#Intermission#**-

Papers in hand and hair combed neatly back, Alfred, dressed in the shimmering armor given to the head of knights, only half listened to his Father blah-blahing here and blah-blahing there back and forth across his study.

King Ryland Jones III, 49th ruler of Spades, was handsome even in his late 40s and nearing the awaiting door of Death himself, looked pallid with sickness yet vivid with fear, worry, and anger. Alfred was proud to say he was the cause of one of those ailments and while, to Cards' eyes, he was a saint and one of the greatest rulers of Spades in a decade, his son knew all too well that since the death of the Queen, not being his mother might he had, the King had not been well, mentally or physically, leaving all the work to the Jack yet all the praise to his so-called-Father. They may have been related by blood, but Ryland had never shown any sentiment for his bastard son, nor vice versa, which both were comfortable with.

We'll save this for another time as we now watch the young Prince rise from his overly lavish seating and set the stack of 10 or so parcels down, none too gently, silencing his Father by the noise. "I'll save you from giving yourself a heart palpitation, _my King_-," The ending title was said with as much malice and venom as he'd meant it to have. "-I understand that there is a creature within the forests and you are sending me and my regimen out to hunt it down, is that correct?"

Obviously unhappy at being so rudely interrupted by his impolite heir, Ryland scowled for a moment before taking the Prince's words and setting himself down. "Yes,_ Alfred_. Something out there has taken down far too many of my troops and seeing as you are somehow able with a sword without cutting yourself, the child that you are, I am trusting you to find it. End it."

Feigning modesty and pleasure at the King's half-compliment, Alfred bowed with a forced smile. "As my Father wishes, your Highness." Without another look at the damned old man, the Prince left him be, ordering a rather attractive young paige to have his troops ready to descend while he retrieved his sword.

"Certainly, Sire." The young Lithuanian boy, a slave taken from the land of Clubs, hurried off with a small bow.

Paying no mind to the young man with which he could not say he hadn't fornicated with, with consent of course, the Prince took his time to allow Toris to round up that lazy regime into order. By the time he'd made it down the well-furnished halls of blues and purples and silvers, the sky had risen to set a heavenly glow within the Chamber of Kings.

A room set off by its lonesome in a hallway, leading to a grand room with the image and a relic of each King and Queen of Spades ever to have reigned. As he was the present king, Ryland's painting, done in his prime when he still had the hair spun of the sun and eyes of a calm ocean, hung in a grand frame crafted of finely shaped golden leaves and silver vines, was placed at the end of the room as the rest of Spade's history was set out around it. Even the late Queen, who Alfred had thought a nice enough woman, was in her place with a black veil hung morbidly over her smiling portrait, curly red hair and shining blue eyes hidden from view.

But aside from the enormous ensemble to commemorate the King's rule, the only other eye catching object was a sword. A plain sword crafted of plain metal by a plain woman in a plain forgery passed down to her not-so-plain son. It was the only item that Alfred was allowed to remember his mother by and he had had to beg on his knees, rather begrudgingly so, to have it placed here.

Emily Franklin had made the weapon, which cost more money than she had ever seen with her own eyes, for her only son. He still remembered when she had presented it to him, tears in her eyes, smile on her beautiful yet aged face, telling him not to forget who he was just because he was born with the mark of the King of Spades. Alfred had promised he would never, kissed her forehead, and was dragged off to a life he never wanted if he couldn't have her with him. Two weeks later she passed away and Alfred had been the only one to attend the small funeral he knew she'd have wanted. The King, who had only used her for her beauty, was absent as well, fancying spending time with the Queen rather. Alfred would never forgive him for that.

Taking the blade gingerly in hand, he whispered a few words to ease his mother's spirit for raising the sword. She had never been one for killing and he promised her soul he would only use it if necessary. The Prince sheathed it and journeyed out of the castle to find his men, single file, ready to fight for their kingdom.

"Men! Today we venture to the Moors and seek a creature! It has disrupted the King's mind and has taken others of us with it!" Hearing that the King was worried sent a few blank slates to break the stoic front and shiver. "However! We will end this today! We will fight! We will win!" Raising his gauntlet encased hand in the air to signal the end of his pep talk, the warrior's let out an uproar of 'Long live the King!' or 'Hail the Prince!'

Honestly, why wouldn't they? Not to toot his own horn, but Alfred wasn't given the position as head knight for nothing.

Now, you may be wondering why have the small talk in the first place? Well, in this world, there is magic and everything of the like, including the creatures it insinuates. And with the power, fear is derived and leads to unnecessary turmoil amongst the divine and the common. A treaty was made; the mystical would keep to their territory, while mortals kept to theirs. It was fair enough but there would always be an individual who wanted to stoke a dying flame to full life again. More later, friends.

For Alfred, he was raised finding all magic to be dangerous but a powerful weapon. And a useful one at that. The woods behind his very castle grounds was filled with the abnormal and it was his job to successfully hunt down each and every one of them. For a land without an upperhanded adversary, was fair game.

And the Prince of Spades never failed an order.

-**#Intermission#2**-

"Oh for fuck's sake…." The second in command, Gilbert Beilshmidt, whined the umpteenth time that morning, now afternoon. "Alfred! There is nothing out here! The old man is just as cracked as usual! The other teams probably got lost in this maze of a fucking forest and we will too if we don't head back now, ver damnit!" Said German, descendant of a once great king, brother to the King of Hearts, nearly tripped over a root rather ungracefully and had the audacity to smack the future king on the back of the head.

And, in hindsight, Alfred shouldn't have let him; be the king he was supposed to be and have the knight beheaded for even speaking to him without permission let alone physically touching him. But the young Prince only gave a soft, defeated laugh as he finally slowed to a stop to take a look around.

The woods were beautiful, in all honesty. The light filtered down through the heavy greenery and gave the area a misty, dreamy haze that one could easily believe they were asleep. The flowers that bloomed here, probably from the tampering of the tiny sprites of the woods, were bright and vivid in color as though they had their own fluorescence of blues, purples, reds, oranges and the like. Even the under-foot, fallen leaves added a beauty that was unexplainable. It was magnificent and yet the king wanted this area to tear down and add to the land of his own kingdom. What a despicable thing to do, but orders were orders.

"Mm…." Frustrated for a moment at this fruitless walk of boredom, The Prince of Spades nodded slowly and motioned with a hand for his troops to head back to the grounds. "Right, men! We'll try again tomorrow!" To which Gilbert echoed and added, "Turn back!"

All, groaning in unison, gathered themselves and started retreating through the formidable brush.

Søren, a Dane from the country of Diamonds, transferred due to depleting numbers, was being particularly loud with his transgressions of this pointless trudging and proceeded to stab his axe into a nearby tree's roots to curse the Moors with action rather than words.

And the forest began to close in around them.

As though the canopy of leaves above their heads had rebutted to the violence by closing together and cutting out light from the sky, leaving the knights in near complete darkness. The trees seemed to stretch up and become an intimidating creature with the intent to destroy and consume anything within its periphery in darkness. The dreamlike front had given way to a nightmare and roots below them began winding around them like snakes or the tentacles of a great beast.

The Prince did not need to tell them as the regalia began forming a tight circle around him. If all else fails, the Prince must be saved and half the men had no trouble giving their lives for their future king and/or friend.

*"_Mitra vend dit nomine?"_

A voice permeated from a thick mist gathering around them and clouding their sight, but it never touched their circle, instead tracing around them perfectly by a foot or two. It spoke in some native, faerie tongue and was an androgynous pitch.

As faerie kind was known for using your voice against you, Gilbert was to speak in place of Alfred at all times.

"We do not speak your language. Speak ours!"

*"He ja plaas ne jomine histah!" The voice cleared its invisible throat and spoke again, sounding clearer in a familiar language. **_"_**_All of you humans are the same…needing all to assimilate to your kind's disgusting habits, including language. I'll ask once again; what are you doing here?"_

Male. And with the dialect of *ancient Spadian.

Relaxing just slightly since the voice did not sound hostile, the second in command kept his weapon raised. "On behalf of King Ryland of Spades' orders, we are to find the culprit of our missing comrades. Are you the creature wreaking havoc on our troops?"

A shadow of a body, seeming to wear a cloak, transitioned some feet behind the white fog but still dark enough to see. The voice also seemed to emanate from the figure. _"Suppose I am….what then, human? Will you kill me?"_

The amusement in its mocking tone made the men tighten their grips on their weapons.

"That is what we plan to do, yes…"

A low, sultry giggle of sorts that made them all question its gender sounded as the shadow walked around them all, still in the cover of white. _"I see. And whom, may I ask, is in charge here? Certainly not a brat such as yourself? Let me guess…" _Taking two or so more steps, it stopped in front of Søren, who appeared extremely on edge. "_Move aside, boy."_

A root took hold of the tall Dane's leg and, before any could react, dragged the screaming Nord to Heaven-knows-where, leaving Alfred exposed until they closed around him once again yet not able to properly cover him with the Prince's height. He could kneel, or cower behind them all, but a Prince certainly did not do such a thing.

_"Prince Alfred of Spades. Pleasure to finally meet such a worthy heir. Many of your line has crossed my path and none have been truly worthy of their title. My congratulations to you, young man."_ There was no mistaking the cynical, ironic bite to the whole greeting and Alfred was never one for rudeness, unless it was aimed at Ryland.

Breaking the rule, fists clenched, Alfred stepped out from cover and had his blade pointed directly at the shadow, who only tilted its head to one side. "Do not speak as if you know me, creature. I am as worthy a king as any and I will prove it to my country by bringing your head to the King!"

_"Arrogance. Anger…._stupidity._ All the makings of a terrible ruler. How about I save Spades the trouble and fix these problems, shall we?" _Just as with the previous man, roots sprung from nowhere as the fog closed in on the regalia. Once it cleared, the woods were back to its pristine beauty and the Prince was gone.

-**#Intermission#3**-

Next the Prince awoke, he noticed his bed was as hard as damned stone tablet. Also, his room smelled like burning incense along with burning food.

Alfred shook his head and blinked his eyes to clear his head enough to look around the small room or hut or hovel. Yes, definitely a hovel. A neat hovel. Though it was certainly a downgrade from his castle.

Sitting up, a sharp pain ran up the length of his arm. Just noticing it, he nearly,** nearly**, scream at the sight of his arm seeming to fuse against the wall of the small room that seemed to be the inside of a tree. As far as he could tell, it didn't seem to be eating him, just keeping him trapped, as he could feel his fingers moving in open air. He sighed and looked about him once more.

Roots hung from the 'ceiling', which appeared to be pressed dirt and clay, indicating they were probably just a little below ground. Books and vials were neatly place in shelves made of uneven, winding wicker, pushed up against walls on each corner of the room. A metal stove was somewhere to his right, some liquid in a pot boiling over inside of it and fizzing out the fire very slowly. Candles and random incense were placed here and there around the room, lighting it in a homey glow. A table with manuscripts and sticks of graphite scattered about it seemed to be the only messy thing in the room save his armor and sword tossed into a careless pile in the-HOLD UP!

Was he naked?! He hadn't noticed his bare arm before but now the rest of his nakedness became painfully obvious. Luckily, he could still feel his undergarments and he sighed ever so quietly only to hear muttering coming from across him. There was no door and no one else was in the room so color the Prince every different shade of confused.

_*"Gas neh to kemin so vit nas haah laet syen….Ja ka mis tov si kri nis os tes miht!" _Came from literally nowhere and Alfred was tense, on the fight-or-flight instinct though neither was an option at the moment. The whole wall of mud across from him was bare until an opening in the shape of a door fell away to reveal a hooded silhouette.

As it walked in, it glanced once at Alfred, face and eyes obscured by the hood's shadow, before moving about the room, the mud closing back over the hole in the wall. It moved around vials, organized the messy table of papers and went to remove the pot of boiling liquid, seeming to curse under its breath.

It resumed its pointless mulling about for some time, annoying the Prince.

"You can't just pretend I'm not here…" Alfred didn't take well to being ignored, especially by someone who kidnapped and stripped him.

It didn't answer for a moment before pouring the liquid into a medium sized vial. "I suppose I can't, can I? Especially considering a child like you cannot remain quiet." The hooded person stopped fussing around and stood at the foot of the wicker bed.

It showed pale hands that reached up to remove its hood, seeming to hesitate, before letting it fall to its shoulders.

Alfred wasn't at all picky with his choice in men and, if given the chance, would probably fuck the very creature in front of his eyes.

The man, yes a man, had hair, messy with a stray leave and twig stuck within it, that shone in the dim light like a torch, not literally, pale skin that seemed so fragile that the slightest wrong touch would bruise it, a sharp nose and a mouth to match. The white skin was nearly see through with his veins but the eye catching features were the light green, intricate markings that looked like paint from this distance. His eyebrows, like two fuzzy worms instead of actual hair, oddly enough, added to his charm and eyes, oh, the eyes, were like green fire that one would burn themselves if they got too close.

After some time of intense staring from both parties, the mystery man seemed to get increasingly uncomfortable before looking off to the side, pale face flushed such a bright pink he looked feverish. "You're staring an awful lot….Do you even…ah…know what I am?"

"…beautiful…"

-End of Chapter 1-

Note: *"_Mitra vend dit nomine?"- _"What are you doing here?"

*"He ja plaas ne jomine histah!" - "What stupid humans!"

*ancient Spadian- is a British accent

_*"Gas neh to kemin so vit nas haah laet syen….Ja ka mis tov si kri nis os tes miht!" - _"Those damned people...Don't I have enough to deal with!"

Author Note: The language is 100% made up so it will not be consistent.

I look forward to comments so don't be afraid to add your input.


	2. Chapter 2

The silence to follow was not a pleasant one as Alfred realized what his big mouth had uttered. "…._excuse me!?"_

"N-no! I, I meant full! O-of yourself!" Yeah, why not? He'd build off of that. "A freak like you probably goes around showing off all those fancy markings, am I right? Just to feel special?" The Prince had no problem insulting a magic creature but the face the other made had him feeling bad for him. But that was easily pushed aside in his head.

The fay frowned just slightly, a dark look coming over his features and the markings on his skin turning red, the flush draining away. "You humans are all the same…." Debating whether or not to pull the hood back up but opted to taking it off, he draped it over the edge of the bed.

With the cloth removed, the rest of his body was visible and well stared at by the Prince. If he were human and nicer, Alfred would definitely tap- "Drink." The vial of mystery liquid was thrust into his face while he was busy staring at those lovely hips and long legs in those slacks.

Staring at the, what looked like, brown water Alfred laughed, actually laughed, startling the faerie, his markings now a shade of orange. "What is so funny?"

"You really think I'm gonna drink something _you_ give me? What is it? Poison? Truth serum? Is it gonna turn me into a rabbit you're gonna eat later?" The whole of Cards knew not to accept anything from a divine. Next thing you know, you'd probably end up eating your family.

"Stop talking like that. It is said as 'going to', not 'gonna.' What kind of prince speaks like that?" His color turned a pale pink. "And no, it is not going to poison you or anything else you have assumed. Just drink it."

Still overly skeptical and not surprisingly so considering the circumstances, the Prince said nothing and simply stared at him, all humor gone.

They had an angry stare down, the fay's skin changing like a kaleidoscope, before the pale male held the other's nose and forced the liquid down his throat while he gasped for breath, effectively making him swallow it down. "Hmph…" Going back to his random moving about, the faerie sat down in a wicker chair that wasn't there before and wrote something in a little book as the heir coughed, hacked, and gagged at whatever he drank.

"What was that?! Gods, it tastes like spoiled cabbage and rotten fruit!" Would it be bad to make himself throw up before he digested it?

Slamming the book down and looking extremely offended, markings flushing bright red once again, the fay growled from his seat. "That was my cooking, you insensitive arsehole! It tastes just fine to me and my friends! Just because you can't taste properly doesn't mean it isn't any good!"

Well that made sense. A faerie's diet consisted of plants and such, no meat or spices. "No wonder it taste like manure…Ah!" The binding on his arm tightened and dug into his arm before loosening back to its moderately comfortable.

"Shut up."

-**#Intermission#**-

"What's with the markings, hm? They change color a lot. Are they your emotions or something? I've heard of faeries with markings like yours but I've never seen one. What does maroon mean?" This was the hundredth question the human shot at the faerie, named Arthur as he found out after at least a half hour of asking, and, frankly, Alfred was already sure what maroon meant.

"…extreme hatred…." Nailed it. Arthur rubbed at his temples and sat back against his chair, seeming to give up on life for the moment. *"Neh mi…?"

Alfred watched him from the bed, sitting up with his arm behind him at an odd angle that wasn't uncomfortable. Having broken enough bones as a child, he was rather flexible. "What do you plan on doing with me?"

Arthur grimaced at the break of silence and looked at the human from the corner of his green eyes. "I honestly don't know…I can't kill you and I sure as hell do not want to keep you but I can't let you go."

There we go. "Why not?"

"Do you think I'm stupid? If I release you, you'll come back and force me to kill more humans than necessary…" The marks on his skin became a deep blue, giving away sadness since the Prince was going along with his 'color for emotions' theory. "Heaven knows I don't like to do it…" It was said quietly enough to obviously not be meant for another's ears but Alfred had the ears of an elephant.

And he was very confused but didn't question it. Besides, he had to work on getting out of here. "How about a deal then?"

Faeries had an unhealthy addiction to gambling since they were all such mischievous creatures. By the way Arthur looked over once again, he was obviously no different.

"You really don't seem to like me. So….if I can make you like me, you let me go? "

"Would that include you returning and burning down my forest?"

"Deal or not? And you can't distance yourself from me. I'll stay here until one of us wins but you have to talk to me during my stay."

The faerie looked the human over and turned to look off at nothing as he thought about it, his color now black which Alfred could not guess what it meant.

It seemed like hours for him to respond and it was a soft question.

"If I win….will you all leave this place alone?" Was he crying?

"If you win, I'll see to it, as King, that no country in Cards should ever set foot in this place."

"Deal." It was a faster agreement than he thought it would be but Arthur still would not look at him.

"Deal."

-**#Intermission#2**-

With the agreement made, Alfred was set free and allowed to roam but was not allowed to leave the forest. His weapons and armor were stored away where he could not use them against the fay in his sleep. Arthur, as his side of the agreement stated, would not ignore the human in his attempts to 'woo' him but that did not upset him.

Arthur was not the kindness, nor the most easily won, and he had no worries about losing to some mere human on a wager that was obviously set in his favor. Honestly, if he did, may he be burned at the stake.

Alfred, however, knew very well his charms worked on even the hardest of hearts, excepting his Father whom he'd rather leave to his loneliness. He had one many hearts of citizens by merely taking their sides of things in hard times and of the monarchs as well, as no one could deny the heir Prince of Spades was a very charismatic young man. He did not doubt his victory in this wager either.

The first day was awfully awkward however since the human seemed to want to learn anything and everything about what Arthur was, how he lived, how his powers worked and everything between. Arthur, grudgingly, had to answer each question no matter how badly his head ached when each was asked in that same, grating, overly-cheerful voice.

Given clothes to his size, Alfred followed the faerie around on his daily routine through the forest, earlier interrupted by the King's troop, though it wasn't necessary and Arthur thought that the human's goal was to drive him mad.

To Alfred, this was more a learning experience; to get to know Arthur from the inside before he worked his own kind of magic. Speaking of magic, the Prince was getting to see just how the woods got its beauty. Apparently, Arthur was the one to give the flowers their vivid colors along with the help of friends that Alfred was slightly disturbed that he couldn't see.

Could he have agreed to spend who-knows-how-long with a potential nut?

That night did not fare any better as there was a rather loud argument between the two over who got the bed and who got the floor.

"I'm a Prince! You can't expect me to sleep on the ground! In the dirt!" Alfred, hogging the bed with his entire body, was pouting like a child as Arthur attempted to knock his fatass off with all his strength, which didn't appear to be much since Alfred wasn't budging an inch.

"And this is my house, damnit! You're lucky I'm not making you sleep outside! Now get off!"

"No!"

Slipping in the dirt from the force of pushing and getting his new clothes dirty, Alfred laughed obnoxiously at Arthur's flustered state, hair matted, face red, and markings turning an interesting mix of pink and red.

"Give up, yet?"

"…..you know, we could always sleep together?"

Ahahaha….."What?"

Standing himself up, Alfred almost swooned at the way Arthur ran a hand up his leg, reaching the top of his thigh and gave slow, massaging squeezes way too close to ground zero. At the way, Arthur somehow entranced Alfred into moving a bit off to the side to make room for him to lay down, too close, with his lips, waaaaaaay too close, and….using his magic to shorten the bed to fit only his slim body while Alfred fell straight to the hard ground and hit his head.

The room filled with Arthur's odd, almost-feminine laughter that was common with a faerie as he pulled up the single blanket in the room and turned over and away from the human.

Alfred, sore now, glared at the back of his head and rubbed his own. "That was fucking cheating..."

Another giggle and Arthur quieted.

Alfred turned over on the ground and closed his eyes.

"Good night."

"…"

-**#Intermission#3**-

The middle of the night, Alfred was wide awake and staring into the darkness only lit by a single candle. Earlier in the night, Arthur hadn't allowed him to turn it out, saying he ran into things in the middle of the night when he woke up too early. He could buy that.

Plus, the light was good enough to carry out his deed.

Sitting up, he breathed in the stuffy air of the underground cave and looked over at Arthur's back. A weak, little thing like him, even with magic, wouldn't last a second deprived of air. It would only take a second to snap his neck.

Standing, Alfred moved to other side of the bed to stare down emotionlessly at the sleeping man. Arthur's hair splayed about his head in a messy halo of sorts, his marks turned white. It gave him an angelic look but Alfred wouldn't fall for it.

He needed to be able to kill one of these monsters without feeling any remorse. It was essential to his kingdom.

It needed to be done.

And he couldn't do it.

This seemed too unfair. An unfair way to die. And Alfred didn't want to feel responsible.

His mother had rubbed off on him too well. She had been too kind for her own good. Now the same goes for her son.

Sighing to himself, the weak sentenced himself back to the floor and closed his eyes.

Halfway into his deep slumber from the exhausting day, he could barely hear over his cloudy head.

"You should have done it….."

-End of Chapter 2-

Note: *"Neh mi…?"-"Why me?"

Author's Note: Second, not as great as the first, chapter to my Of Magic series.

We have a bit of development, mostly for Arthur and I may completely rewrite this chapter at some point. Comments and reviews are appreciated, thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

"Missing…" It wasn't a question. And while it was surprising, it really wasn't. After all, Ryland did not have high hopes for the future heir. He regarded the Prince as a spoiled child with far too short a temper no matter how kind he tried to be. And he wasn't in the best mind or mood being woken at such an early hour of the day; the sun had barely risen.

"Yes, sire. The creature lowering our numbers has taken him. In the worst scenario, I fear he is already dead though it is likely the monster will use him as a bargaining tool. It appeared to be intelligent and very much so." The red-eyed knight was on his knee, sword placed nobly at his side, head down, as he spoke to his King. Like many others of the Industrial Kingdom of Time, he couldn't wait for Alfred to take the throne.

Ryland, though more than displeased with whom would take his place in his nearing death, didn't have much of a choice in the matter. His biological clock was still running smoothly, his body another matter entirely, yet he had no Queen with which to have a proper heir. He still regretted allowing the late Queen of Spades to convince him to bring Alfred to the castle as his official first born.

There would be no more children for the King.

Alfred was all there was and he would put his empire before his own disdain and disgust.

Shifting one leg over the other in a regally lax position upon his throne, he pondered over his son's absolutely (wonderful) _horrid _death in his mind. The boy was probably already dead, as was assumed, but they had to try and return him.

Try being the key word. Not succeed.

"Trap it. Whatever it is, it resides in that forest and is nothing more than an ignorant animal. Set a perimeter of pitfalls, lures, snags, whatever you can use around and as far in the forest as you can. It shouldn't be all that difficult to catch the silly thing." Great plan. Flawless.

Gilbert, however…."Sire. What if Alfred should fall into one of these traps? If he is still alive, I have all confidence in him being able to escape but he will not know that we've set wile in his path." He need not ask to know what would be his reply. "What if Alfred should die in one?"

Fingers gripped the sapphire gilded arms of the throne in a fleeting moment of pleasure as Ryland sighed ever-so softly in approval at the suggestion. "We can only hope."

That afternoon was considerably awkward; Alfred wondering whether the voice last night had been a dream and Arthur seeming intent on changing the subject once he'd returned later that morning and Alfred tried to ask of it.

So Alfred took to staring at the back of the fay's head as Arthur wrote nonsense (to Alfred) in that oh-so-important little book of his. When he'd tried to inspect it, his hand had been smacked by a branch as some sort of contingency. And a fairly effective one at that; his hand still itched from the sting. Was that fucking poison ivy?

At some point Arthur must have felt the other staring because markings that curled up around his pale neck and across the cartilage of his pointed ears turned a cherry red. It was kind of cute really until the acidity of green, irritated eyes were focused directly into his own cyan orbs.

"Is there something you need, human? Because I'd very much appreciate you not watching me like I'll disappear if you blink."

Alfred simply stared, thinking over something a subject not involving the dream (words?) he'd dreamt (heard) last night. "Your markings…."

Once mentioned, they became a shade of pink that nearly blended into his white skin. "What about them?"

"…" In all honesty, when he thought back on this day, he didn't regret a damn thing.

Rather than answer the faerie, he sat up from his spot on the dirt hearth where he'd previously been assigned the task of gutting a fish, to send the "aggravating child" away from the fay to be silent, which had long since been hung to cure from a thin wire-like vine. Coming over to stand directly behind the shorter male (the fay's gender was still up for debate, however, on account of the shrill screeches he'd received the previous day), to which Arthur responded by closing and pushing the book off to the side as though Alfred would attempt to burn it.

The leaf-bound papers could have been less on the Prince's mind as he leaned down to brush his lips across the pale expanse of the man's neck.

Almost instantly, Arthur tensed and his breath caught mid question, fingers gripping the small notebook as if he was warring with himself as to whether he should use it as a weapon to cease the Heir's sudden whim to want to be intimate. He was, by no means, a prude and, even as a creature of magic, got the craving for company of the kind Alfred was offering. Offering? Is that what this was?

The marks along his neck and cheeks turned white, Alfred observed as he continued to softly pepper feathery kiss after feathery kiss down to his shoulder and collarbone, before slowly transitioning from white to pink to a bright fuchsia that looked nice on his nearly translucent skin. As with color, so did his body as he slowly became undone and relaxed entirely under the sunny blonde's touch.

There it was.

Retracing his kisses back up to his jawline, with a firm hand he gently guided Arthur to face him as he leisurely, _teasingly_, followed his mentally marked path to the edge of the fay's pretty pink lips. The rather pliant male had closed his eyes and had the slightest tint of human flush across his nose and cheeks that made freckles Alfred hadn't noticed before to view. _Cute…_ The hand that had turned Arthur to face him ghosted down the fay's cheek, neck, to his shoulder and down his chest (flat, but he could still be female?), stopping to rub at a pert nipple through the flimsy fabric of his cotton tunic (where had he even gotten the fabric?).

The Prince's lips, closed in a straight and uncharacteristically serious expression, pulled up just slightly at the silent shudder that ran through the length of Arthur's thin body. The fay, head still turned and seemingly obedient at staying in place unless Alfred said otherwise, nibbled apprehensively at his bottom lip. Nervous. _Eager._

Alfred's lips traced another mystery path up his cheekbone in kisses that became a little less innocent and more breathy and hot against his skin. Yes.

His hands, rough with toughened skin, a little strange for a Prince who needn't lift a finger, ran to feel at his narrow hips, rather sharp since faeries tended to be a bit too thin, and rubbed tantalizing circles with his thumbs on the insides of thighs, close to their mark. _Yes…_

Warm, soft lips made it to his rather sensitive ears and nipped at the flesh to draw another tremor through his body along with a high, keening yelp. Teeth. _Yeeeeees…_ It has been far too long.

A rather delightful sound, that made Arthur mentally berate himself for twitching rather sensually at, made it to his ears and he made it out into a laugh. A deep, sultry, _provocative _rumble that was very obviously Alfred's.

Lips directly by his ears and letting purposeful puffs of hot, warm air. _Oh Lord, yes!_

All other movement ceased, including Arthur's as he waited in taut silence for Alfred would do, say as it appeared as he brought himself just centimeters from the faerie's ear. _Please…_

"Don't ever tease me like you did last night again, Arthur."

A command.

Followed by a violent shiver that felt like an all too pleasant shock of electricity up Arthur's spine.

Followed by loud, boisterous laughter that left his right ear ringing from the sheer volume of it.

Alfred rolled back into the ground, blowing up dust with his weight and holding his sides as he continued his tear jerking guffaw. It was only renewed with force as he looked up through the salt-water in his eyes at the terribly flustered fay.

And Arthur was absolutely lost until realization dawned on him and his markings turned a fiery red. "**Fucking arsehole!**" Books and pencils and empty glass vials alike were thrown at Alfred's head, face, wherever he could hit the other.

This did nothing to stop his mirth.

"O-oh Gods…you, you should've seen your f-face…!" A well-aimed book hit his head but it was too light for it to cause damage.

Out of ammo, Arthur grabbed his cloak and stormed out, screaming in Faerie at everything and nothing, leaving Alfred to hopefully die of laughter.

Alone, it didn't take much longer for his laughs to die down to fleeting chuckles and then a prominent frown as he lied on the ground.

He…hadn't meant to take it that far. He'd only meant to leave it at the first few kisses of his neck to see what the marks would do to confirm his theory of emotion-induced colors.

Well. He had his fucking answer. And a serious problem that was making the slacks Arthur had lent him increasingly uncomfortable.

He wasn't opposed to masturbating, just that right now seemed inappropriate since Arthur could walk back in any time and he'd probably just tore apart what chances he had of freeing himself from this accursed forest.

Glowering at the mud roof above him as if it were the source of his problems, he realized he must have also made himself seem like a raving lunatic. Or at least a complete moron. But laughing was the only way he knew to get himself out of a sticky situation, at least that's what it would've become if he hadn't.

"Damnit…" The Prince threw an arm across his eyes and willed, begged rather, his erection to go away.

Something bland ought to help with that.

He felt around for the nearest book from Arthur's failed arsenal and pulled it over to read and forget the exquisite gasps he'd heard from those attract-

Stop.

He threw the book open to get started on his forgetting until he noticed it was upside down and backwards. Fixing it with an infuriated huff, his lust dilated eyes were met with the leafy binding of Arthur's journal.

_Oh…_

"Stupid! Stupid stupid stupid! Mother fucking bloody….fuck!" Human curses weren't a wide section in his vocabulary.

Angrily wiping frustrated-_sexually _frustrated-tears from his cheeks, he forced bushes and branches from his path with a little more force than was necessary, probably scaring away any woodland animals that dared cross his path at the moment.

He was far too upset to care at the moment, the unnatural quiet being a blessing for once.

He was just so angry! And horny! And ashamed! Every bloody emotion for all he could fucking think at the moment!

So much that he didn't feel the intrusion of man made machinery touching his shrubbery. They were like an extension of his nerves and he could feel the movement of every animal and the weight of every stone that lands on them.

The spring coil trap was unnoticed until it snapped clean onto Arthur's ankle.

The pain was numbing for mere seconds before a scream resounded throughout the woods that resonated solely form Arthur's lungs.

It was quite loud enough to be heard by the knights patrolling the woods.


End file.
